


Black Magic

by AngelicEclair



Series: Final Girl [6]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Scream (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Knife Play, Little foreplay, Sex Tape, Threats, the reader is a witch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: The Reader is an up and coming witch, learning all the tricks of her trade, one being visualization. In a fit of restlessness, she asks the universe for a frighteningly-dominant man to soothe her desires.Maybe it is wise to be careful what you ask for.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Original Female Character(s), Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Series: Final Girl [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674658
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	Black Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read or comment if you are offended by horror elements or writing smut about slashers! Thank you so much!
> 
> The song used in this chapter and referenced for the title is Black Magic Woman by Fleetwood Mac.

(Y/N) was like some strange goddess, a daughter of night. She was like a ghost in that she never existed until evening. Dramatic. Intense. Magnetically attractive, crystal crags glowed in her glance. She was dangerously and inebriatingly magnificent. 

Being a "baby witch" as they were lovingly and sometimes not so lovingly called by the community, (Y/N) did a lot of studying as she delved into the Craft. 'How to make moon water' in Google, moon silvery ritual oil dabbed on her wrists, enchanted milk baths, white spell candles burning, incense swirling in her sacred space, and cracked angel quartz towers lovingly placed on the bedside table.

Being a witch, she was more in tune with nature than with people. Her many moods, as plentiful as phases of the moon, were either unseen or misunderstood; thus, she stayed holed up in her room reading. She was not antisocial, though. One of her foremost wants was the touch of another person, though her needs were entirely vanilla. Every night, she felt as if trapped in a floating net, a love-sick and restless.

She was lonely, but the night itself wanted to touch her. The silence would comb her sinful hair throughout the night, but she never once noticed how the world bent to her. She wasn't superstitious. We are what people are superstitious of.

Magick, in essence, is the ability to communicate to the universe what you want in a significant way so that the universe can then respond and create what you desire, so (Y/N) made countless love jars, lust jars, and visualized until her face went blue.

On an ordinary night, (Y/N) confided her sins to the moon, full and in wedding-white. She left the curtains open to let her charge her jar of moon water in a circle of opal.

Before turning in for bed, (Y/N) drew a sigil with her lotion before massaging it into her skin, thinking of her sleep trick. She imagined herself sitting on the bed of a loved one like a guardian angel, wielding away the shadows that creep into their dreams at night, resting on the edge of the mattress.

Her eyes began to grow heavy. Heavier, heavier until-

Her phone started to vibrate. Blindly groping at the spot beside her, she clutched her phone and brought it up to her face. For a moment, she squinted at the too-bright screen. The number was unlisted. It could be a robot-spam call, but it was nearly one in the morning. Warm anxiety began to unfurl in (Y/N) chest, and she tapped at the answer button.

"Hello?" (Y/N) asked with concern.

"Hello?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat.

"Who is this?"

"Sorry, I must have the wrong number."

"Oh, okay. No problem."

"Wait-"

(Y/N)'s thumb hovered over the end call button.

"What are you doing right now, 'Black Magic Woman'?"

A fresh panic waded in her chest. (Y/N)'s eyes flicked to her vanity, where the crystalline jar of moon water wat, slicing up moon beans into little shapes and projecting them onto the vanity-top.

She hung up and hurried to her window to peer out at the empty street. No ominous figure under the single winking streetlamp. Good. (Y/N) couldn't ignore how sweetly her heart raced as she drew the curtains closed in one quick movement. She backed towards her bed and plopped down, now wide awake.

Her phone buzzed half-way under her thigh, making her jump.

"Hello?"

"Why'd you hang up for?"

"I think you have the wrong number."

"No, I know I have the right one, thanks though." He said dismissively. 

(Y/N) sat up in bed and drew her knees to her chest, shrinking herself down as if it would make herself harder to see.

"A little witch afraid of the dark? Now that's not right."

"I'm not afraid; I just want to know who you are."

"Maybe I'm the answer to all your...'visualization.'" he mocked.

(Y/N)'s window exploded in a spray of glass, and a robed figure ducked in like a cool, dark mist. A wintery chill poured in. Her heart was filled with electricity, and she bolted across her bed for the closed door. Before her fingertips touched the cool of the doorknob, great hands folded across her chest, and a force like a whirling hurricane dragged her backward, dropping her back on her bed. 

"What's your favorite scary movie?" He chuckled, leaning over her heaving body.

The icy blade of a knife roamed her collarbone.

"I'd like to hazard a guess and say it's the one we're about to make." He rasped as he pulled his phone from the folds of his robe and readied the camera. He held his phone in one hand, the knife in the other, and allowed his body weight to be the anchor that kept (Y/N) incapacitated. 

(Y/N)'s fists were unknowingly clenched at her sides as her mind begged her to react for the sake of her body, which was, without a doubt, is a danger most grave.

"Now, if you just lay back and relax, I'll try to keep the cuts to a minimum, but if you decide to get rowdy..." The Ghost Face pantomimed slitting her throat. It seemed plain to (Y/N) that he loved the sound of his own voice and was most likely getting of half on the situation and half on the things he was saying.

"Okay, okay, I'll-I'll be still." (Y/N) stuttered through chattering teeth.

"Let's see this cunt of yours, hmm?"

(Y/N) hugged herself to keep from shaking too hard as the ghost-masked intruder slipped her flannel pants down, followed by her thin cotton panties. He hooked a finger in the fabric and pulled the undergarment to the side.

"There it is." He lowered his phone to her clenching cunt to get a good shot of how it glimmered wetly in the moonlight, almost romantically. The Ghost Face climbed back over her form, so he could remind (Y/N), once again, of how tiny and helpless she was. He relished in the realization of defeat in her eyes.

"You like that my knife has dug into hundreds of other gals just like yourself, just to see them bleed? Huh? You like knowing you are only a little tick away from me just gutting you like a fish?"

(Y/N) unwittingly pressed her crotch into the masked assailant's.

A husky laugh rattled from behind the mask.

"Let's get me fucked, okay?" The Ghost Face said nonchalantly. He trusted her to be too dazed to book it out of her room and wouldn't attempt to navigate the sea of broken glass with bare feet, so he took his crushing weight off of her and leaned back against the throw pillows on her bed.

He fished in the folds of his robe and pulled out his thick cock. The Ghost Face wiggled his finger in a stern 'come hither' motion. Being drunk on forced submission, (Y/N) crawled towards him obediently. 

"Good, good. Now, straddle my chest."

(Y/N) wordlessly complied, swinging her heavy legs over the haunting form's torso.

"I can feel the heat off your pussy through my robe, goddamn."

(Y/N) shuddered at his words and placed two hands on top of each other on his chest for support.

"Say cheese." He sang, taking a picture before he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"I hope you're wet enough because I sure as shit don't wanna fuck you dry."

Before (Y/N) had time to process his comment, she felt two hands drag her back, and an unbelievable pressure jabbing towards her core as The Ghost Face's cock squeezed into place. (Y/N)'s fingers hooked into the gaudy black robes as she stifled a pained scream.

"I think I'm gonna fuck you to death." He snickered as he bucked up into the frantically squeezing heat, as (Y/N) willed her body to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Arms strong with years of restraining hapless victims, The Ghost Face crossed his arms over (Y/N)'s back, anchoring her body to his as he pounded her swollen pussy. The prick of his knife at the nape of her neck. A constant reminder not to slip up.

A smooth, gloved hand skidded down the hill of her ass, a playful finger teasing her puckered hole as he thrust up into her, rocking her entire form as her eyes dared to roll back.

The added pressure against her tight asshole was threatening to throw (Y/N) off into the unforgiving sea of oblivion, but she scrambled to hang on a bit longer. The Ghost Face's curved cock massaged a bundle tucked deeply away in (Y/N) that her own fingers usually failed to reach.

The masked man gutted her sexually, feeling slight discomfort in her stomach as he trampled her cervix.

(Y/N) screamed out as your orgasm hit you like a stormy wave. Her body vibrated, and your internal walls clasped tightly around the pulsing cock. The Ghost Face groaned hotly, hitting his own orgasm a lot sooner than intended. He tried desperately to control the untamed bucking of his hips but failed. With a long, drawn-out moan, he came. The warm sensation of his cum flooding making (Y/N)'s head swim.

Nearly unaffected by the hard fuck, The Ghost face collected himself and jumped up off the bed, moving like a phantom over the hardwood floor.

"Got a Black Magic Woman..." he crooned as his heavy boots crunched over the scattered glass shards before climbing out of the broken-out window and vanishing into the night like a black cat in the dark.

"I got a black magic woman. Got me so blind I can't see that she's a black magic woman. She's tryin' to make a devil out of me."

**Author's Note:**

> I am still pretty sick, but writing short stories about slashers is helping me get over it! I hope this story was coherent enough to be enjoyed. Thank you for reading and being patient with me.


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